


Anything.  Anything at all.

by Caerulea



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, F/M, One Shot, Sad, no really, single get together in the past
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-20
Updated: 2013-03-20
Packaged: 2017-12-05 21:41:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/728206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caerulea/pseuds/Caerulea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You can't kill an idea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anything.  Anything at all.

Molly took a deep breath and waited for her name to be called. It was almost time.

You can't kill an idea. That's what Moriarty planted in everyone's head, and now Sherlock was living in the shadows in order to protect the ones he loved. Yes, loved.

Molly was a romantic, she knew she was, even living on the fringes of the dark drama that was Sherlock Holmes. She believed he had sacrificed it all for love. And she was the one he was leaning on. Oh, she was well aware she wasn't the only one; a select few trusted homeless people, and Mycroft Holmes of course. But still.

After that horrible day of violence and police and the paparazzi and the lying, Molly needed to remind herself that poor, mousy Molly in the morgue was essential to saving the day. Eventually. In the long run. Once Sherlock could come out of hiding. She still couldn't even imaging facing John Watson. She was afraid she would give in to the urge to tell him. Especially not after...that night.

Molly felt bad about that night, but only a little. At first anyway. Now, Molly didn't know what to feel. What to do. A single night, when Sherlock Holmes was at his lowest, his saddest, and Molly did what anyone in love faced with such sorrow; she offered comfort. And, as Sherlock often did in other manners, he took.

After, he shook in her arms and held her close and it was enough, for a moment at least. It wasn't about desire, and she gave anyway. She gave him her help, her secrets, and anything, anything at all. Even suffused with emotion herself, Molly could tell he wasn't going to her for herself, really. Sherlock sighed that it was all fine with a funny shiver to his voice she wasn't used to hearing, and supposed it meant something.

He left the next morning. He would be gone for as long as it took, Molly, don't ask when or where, Molly, and for God's sake, don't tell anyone, Molly.

Molly was a doctor, she knew two weeks later, when she was. When she was late herself.

You can't kill an idea once it is in your head.

You can't kill an idea. But. To protect the ones you loved, sometimes you had to keep secrets, and lie, and bear the harshest punishments alone.

“Molly Hooper?” A nurse in scrubs was calling. Molly got up from her seat, and followed the nurse into the clinic for her abortion.

Because. That's what she needed to do.

Because.

You can't kill an idea, can you?


End file.
